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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857495">I'm friends with the monsters inside my head</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanimalew/pseuds/shanimalew'>shanimalew</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fictober 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Halloween, Light Angst, Mocking, Multi, Other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:48:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26857495</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanimalew/pseuds/shanimalew</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween, they are in New York and Napoleon wants his partners to have the true Halloween experience. But as always, nothing goes according to plan.</p><p> </p><p>[Fictober 2020, Day 6]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Illya Kuryakin/Gaby Teller, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo/Gaby Teller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fictober 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947211</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm friends with the monsters inside my head</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Prompt 6 Trick </em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m really happy you guys are in New York at Halloween, it is not as beautiful as it is at Christmas but still very folkloristic” Napoleon says, guiding his partners through the chaotic streets of New York.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s strangely happy their mission takes place in the United States. He loves travelling the world and being as far away from his memories as possible, but sometimes he feels some kind of nostalgia for his hometown. He’s happy he ate caviar looking at the Mediterranean sea or spent a very steamy weekend with a Duchess in a cabin in Scandinavia, however sometimes, he finds himself missing New York. The chaos of Times Square, the wonderful smell of food in Little Italy or ChinaTown, the multitude of people rushing through the subway trying not to be late to their jobs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he hears the umpteenth taxi driver scream, he finds himself smiling. God he missed beautiful, vulgar, chaotic New York.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this Halloween, anyway?” Gaby asks, interrupting his train of thought, her gaze focused on taking in everything that’s happening around them. </span>
  <span>She’s never seen anything like New York before, in comparison London seems like a small provincial town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is probably another worthless capitalistic holiday, God knows Americans love celebrate everything” Illya replies, strengthening a bit his grip on Gaby’s arm, as if afraid of suddenly losing her in the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean what is Halloween? Don’t you have it in Germany? I don’t ask for Russia because I know for a fact that you can’t have it, as you don’t understand what fun is”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“East Germany has lost its ability to have fun a long time ago” Gaby says, her free hand caressing Illya’s arm, wanting to assure him that his country’s faults are not his, no matter how much the man loves to carry every problem Russia has on his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well, Halloween is a holiday that celebrates death and spookiness. It’s all about scary things, zombies, vampires, werewolves etc. Kids like to dress up and go door to door asking for sweets, saying ‘trick or treat’ and some even organise parades or costume contests. It’s fun”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“America has no taste. It is disrespectful to celebrate the dead with frivolous costumes”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I said, you’re no fun, Peril”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why children ask for sweets to strangers? Don’t their parents spoil them enough? A population of weak, that is what you are raising”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the asking that’s fun but the chase. Walking around with your friends, accumulating candies or pranking people. The battle between groups of children for who has the right to ring the nice woman who gives off too much candy. Ah, what memories!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illya rolls his eyes and looks away, focusing his gaze on the crowded city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems fun. And what adults can do on his holiday, apart from giving children candy?” Gaby says, eyes lighting up in excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his hate for America and its useless holidays, Illya finds himself smiling. He loves seeing Gaby excited for something. She’s so young and new to their job, it’s nice to have around someone who still sees the best parts of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, some organise dress-up parties while others watch horror movies on tv, which is what we are doing tonight. So now we go buy as many candies as possible” Napoleon says, raising his hand to point at a bodega across the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, that’s why you asked Waverly to send us a day early on mission. Nice thinking, Solo” she replies, detaching herself from Illya to go to Napoleon, as they attentively choose what candies to buy. Illya stays outside with his back straight and arms crossed, almost looking like their bodyguard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want something, sir?” The shopkeeper asks Illya, who promptly shakes his head, before refocusing his attention on the road.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits for Napoleon and Gaby, foot tapping on the ground. He hates New York, and he especially hates Newyorkers, so he anxiously waits for them to finish their purchase so they can return to their apartment and he can spend the rest of the day playing chess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later, what seemed like an eternity to Illya, Gaby exits the bodega with a bag in her hand. She excitedly shakes it, looking at Illya with a breathtaking smile on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never seen so many candies! You should have come inside to help us choose”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am claustrophobic” he mumbles, taking her arm and walking away from the bodega as soon as he sees Napoleon putting his wallet in his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not. I’ve seen you enter in holes definitely smaller than you. What’s the problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Do not like crowded streets” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaby looks at him attentively but decides to drop it, in favour of grabbing Napoleon and anchoring her arm in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s getting his panties in a twist?” Napoleon, then, asks, looking at his companions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t like crowds” Gaby says, but her eyes tell Napoleon not to press any further, so he just nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get home then” he says, waving his hand to catch a taxi’s attention.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they arrive at the apartment, Illya immediately goes to the bathroom, leaving Gaby and Napoleon looking at each other perplexed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something happened outside?” Napoleon whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I think he really doesn’t like crowds. He’s been on edge ever since we got out of the plane”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon shrugs, then takes the bag of candies from Gaby’s hands and goes to put them in the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we need to go buy something for dinner, unless we want to go in a candy coma”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm...candy coma sounds appealing, but maybe next time. Can you go by yourself?” Gaby says, before lowering her voice, “I’ll stay here with him, see if he calms down”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing” he replies, before going out again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Napoleon returns he finds them sitting on the small couch at the centre of the room, Illya hunched over his chessboard, brows furrowed in concentration while Gaby rests her head on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He silently watches them as he decides that, although the sun has yet to set, it is time to prepare dinner. If not just to have something to do that isn’t lying next to them in silence. He likes their calm but doesn’t feel particularly keen to share it, pent up energy bubbling under his skin. He knows he asked Waverly for this free day with the excuse of giving them more time to prepare for the mission, but he didn’t anticipate his eagerness to go straight into action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cat got your tongue, Cowboy?” Illya says, eyes not leaving the chessboard. Napoleon doesn’t turn to look at him, but he can hear the laugh in the man’s voice and despite the mockery in it, he finds himself smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just focused. Who’s winning there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still to be decided” Gaby says, chuckling at her own joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Napoleon has the time to answer back with some witty phrase, he hears the doorbell ring. Still wearing an apron, he goes to open it. At the corner of his eye he sees Illya straightening his back and reaching for something to his left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon’s shoulders relax when he sees two kids, respectively dressed up as a cowboy and a vampire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, hello there. What do we have here, a cowboy and a vampire? I can’t imagine what they have to talk about…” he says, smiling at the children.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trick or treat?” They scream at him, extending their pumpkin-shaped baskets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, treat for sure. Wait here” he replies, going in the kitchen to get some sweets. He puts some in each basket and waves them goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time I want to give the candies!” Gaby exclaims, much to Illya’s annoyance. He mumbles some Russain curse even Napoleon doesn’t understand and resumes his game.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After eating, and after three additional visits from the neighbourhood kids, all three of them settle on the small couch, a bowl of sweets in front of them, ready to watch whatever horror American TV has to offer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is stupid. True to America weak population, Russian men would never run away like chickens” Illya comments, for the umpteenth time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a movie, Peril. A classic shitty horror, please enjoy it for what it is” Napoleon replies, eyes rolling so hard they almost make the jackpot sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In his defence, these characters are pretty stupid. Doesn’t make you all look good” Gaby says, earning a satisfied ‘Thank you’ from Illya.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two are insufferable”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A scream from the tv, together with the doorbell, attracts their attention, abruptly stopping their banter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illya stands up and goes to the door. In front of him there is a group of adolescents not even dressed up, at least not as much as the previous kids were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trick or treat?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If the treat is a pack of cigarettes the better, old man” one of them says, earning a laugh from the entire group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illya doesn’t know what irritates him more, the insolence or the lack of effort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You barely dressed. Put more effort next time. Goodbye” Illya says, before closing the door on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god” Gaby says, before erupting in laughter.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re impossible, Peril. You could’ve given them something”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already do not like this holiday, I do not see why I have to condone lack of effort. Rejection reinforce spirit” he replies harshly, sitting back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon shakes his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night goes smoothly, no more visits from children, although the comments from Gaby and Illya have become more and more frequent and insulting with each passing minute. Napoleon is ready to call it a night and drink himself to sleep to forget about what awful people his partners are when they hear noises coming from outside. He turns the TV volume down, now hearing more clearly the sound of something tapping against the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” he murmurs, reaching for Illya’s gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Russian stands up, pocket knife in his right hand, and opens the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon relaxes a bit when he sees broken eggs on the door, however, before he can explain to them why, another couple of eggs are launched, landing on Illya’s shirt and face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking commie!” some of the kids scream as they run away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but the laughter dies in his throat when he sees that Illya hasn’t moved an inch, his finger tapping rhythmically on his thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaby is by Illya’s side in an instant, shouting swear words at the kids, both in English and German, before closing the room and pushing Illya in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take some tissues” she says, while Napoleon is paralysed on the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illya’s eyes are empty, focused but not really, on a point behind Napoleon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaby returns immediately, trying to clean as much as possible while murmuring in German. Napoleon doesn’t know what’s happening, but he sure as hell feels like he’s intruding a very private moment. He knows he can do something, anything, but his mind is blank, leaving him to just watch as Gaby takes care of everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After she puts away the dirty tissues, she returns to Illya, who hasn’t moved an inch, harshly grabbing his face, making him lower his gaze even though his eyes still look unfocused. Something in Illya’s jaw cracks, but Gaby doesn’t seem to mind, so Napoleon stays silent. She says something to him in German. It’s too low for Napoleon to understand but he’s able to catch a few words, understanding she’s asking him if he’s fine. After the third time she asks the question, and Illya not answering her, she slaps him in the face. Hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon jumps at the sound, eyes opening comically wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gaby…” he starts, but she just holds a finger towards him, eyes not leaving Illya’s, so he stays put.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Illya’s eyes look, really look, at Gaby. She asks again and this time he replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’ll shower” he says, getting out of Gaby’s iron grip and going to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gaby exhales, before going to the kitchen to wash her hands. Then, she fills herself a glass of scotch and sits back down, as if nothing’s happened. Napoleon looks at her like she’s grown a second head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything okay, Cowboy?” she asks, a playful smile on.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of fucking course not, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wants to say. No, scream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you do it?” he instead says, voice barely a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Practice”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This happens often? I thought he was getting better” he asks, more and more stunned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, better at not destroying the room, but he still gets those moments. Just not in front of you” she replies, taking a sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> She’s too calm for Napoleon’s liking. </span>
  <span>How dare she be this relaxed when Illya is like that? When Napoleon himself is freaking out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not in front of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose it’s a mix of fear of being mocked and desire to look tough. You know how he is, he wants you to think he’s the best, not a psychopath”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He kind of is” he says, but he promptly receives a jab in the sternum. He coughs a little. “Come on, Gaby. You have to admit, that is not a normal reaction to some kids’ prank”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was egged while yelled at ‘fucking commie’ and for the entire day as soon as he opened his mouth he was looked at with a mixture of disgust and fear. Now tell me this treatment wouldn’t tip you off too”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to the point of going mute and horror movie-like”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He reacts like that to things, but he’s working on it. You can’t judge him for a coping mechanism he has no immediate control over. But what can you do is be there for him, or at least not mock him for a legitimate feeling”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not mocking him”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were going to and you will when he returns looking like nothing happened. Just because he doesn’t want to address the problem doesn’t mean he’s okay with being considered a freakshow. He hides because he’s ashamed. So, if you just look at him in the wrong way, I’ll be the one going on a psychotic spree” she says, looking at him in the eye and pointing the glass at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon doesn’t know what to do, so he silently raises his hands. He feels an ache in his heart that he doesn’t know how to explain, so he stays quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while, Illya emerges from the bathroom, a towel around his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am tired. Tomorrow we have mission, so I will go to bed but you continue your watch. Goodnight” he says, his gaze locked in theirs. It’s a challenge, he’s asking one of them to talk, to judge, but for the first time Napoleon can see right through it. And he sees fear, and shame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ache returns, now amplified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be right behind you, liebling. I feel quite tired myself” Gaby says, as Illya nods and goes to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In my family that’s how we handled emotional stuff” Napoleon starts before Gaby has the time to get up, “By not dealing with it. Or by laughing at it. That’s how I handled it, still handle I think. But I would never do anything to hurt Illya intentionally” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels his throat tightening and his vision blurring, but he continues, </span>
  <span>“If you didn’t notice, I kind of love that dork. A lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t dare to look at Gaby, not after admitting something like that. He’s never used that word, not to anyone who wasn't part of his family. But now that he realises, in so little time those two have become a sort of family to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then come to bed with me” she says, raising herself from the couch and going to stand right in front of Napoleon, hand extended towards him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it’s the right thing…” he starts, but Gaby immediately interrupts him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is. Let’s go”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs his hand, guiding him to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Illya is lying in the middle part of the bed, eyes closed. Gaby takes off her clothes and slips at his right side, curling against him. Immediately, Illya’s arm goes around her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon looks at them, unsure. Gaby mouths something along the lines of ‘Come here or I’ll kill you’, so he quietly strips and goes to lay on Illya's free side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's not that stupid to go against Gaby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Russian opens one eye, then closes it again and smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here, Cowboy” he murmurs, enveloping him and pulling him closer, “Everything is okay”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon lets out a wet laugh against Illya’s chest, feeling his vision blurring again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The audacity of this man to be the one comforting when he should be comforted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should be the one to say that” Napoleon says against Illya’s skin, closing his eyes tight to avoid any tear from falling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another thing I am better at, then” Illya says, smiling when he hears both Gaby and Napoleon laugh, “Now sleep. Mission tomorrow”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Napoleon and Gaby comply, falling asleep in a matter of minutes thanks to their giant’s warmth.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks a lot for reading this story, leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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